Page 86 of Top Shelf

Me: That sounds ominous.

Viktor: It’s to do with my family. Especially Anton. I should explain before it becomes urgent.

My skin prickles beneath my top at the word urgent, and my brain immediately opens twelve tabs, six of which are flashing red.

Me: That sounds even ominous-er, Viktor!

Viktor: We can talk tonight. You do not need to carry it now.

Me: Too late. I’m now carrying it like a suspicious package

Viktor: Then put it down somewhere safe until later, min fru.

The contractor calls my name, and I realize I’ve been staring at my phone, trying to think of what to say back, or whether to finally ask him what min fru means, even though I have my suspicions.

“Sorry.” I shove it into my pocket. “Can you repeat the part about the access panel?”

He explains the difference between the two mounting options again, and I watch his mouth, nod at all the right places, then reach the end of the sentence with absolutely no idea what he just said. Fuck. I try to write the answer down to circle back to later, but put it in the wrong section of my notebook, leaving me to aggressively scratch it out and rewrite it harder than necessary.

At five-fifteen, my mother calls. The studio hums around me with the low static of too many decisions stacked too close together, so this is the last thing I need. I watch her name glow on the screen while the contractor checks measurements near the windows, and I manage to ignore it until it rings out. My parents don’t call to chat. They only happen when I’ve done something they’ve decided requires intervention.

My father calls immediately after my mom’s call stops, so with a sigh, I step into the unfinished assessment room, where the floor is still covered in protective paper and the paint smells raw.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Heidi.” His voice has that clipped edge he gets when he believes he’s being reasonable. “Your mother and I saw something online.”

My stomach drops before he says the rest. “Okay…”

“About your marriage.”

Ah, shit. Somehow, even though I knew they’d eventually find out, I’m taken briefly off guard.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “It happened quickly.”

“Clearly.”

Mum’s voice comes on faintly, either from another phone or because he’s put me on speaker without warning. “Heidi, why would you let us find out from strangers?”

I look down at the boot prints on the protective paper. “We kept it private.”

“Private from your own parents?” Dad asks incredulously, as though this distance between us appeared on its own one day and not after years of them making every piece of who I am feel inconvenient.

“It was a courthouse wedding,” I say. “Legal and simple.”

“Legal and simple are not words I ever expected you to use about marriage,” Mom says with a brittle laugh. “I suppose we should be glad you married a man, at least.”

My mouth goes dry. Outside the room, someone drops a tool that makes a cracking sound against the floor, and my eye twitches.

“Mom.”

“What? You know what I mean.” She sighs like I’m the one being difficult. “There’s always so much drama with you and all these labels. Men, women, changing your mind. Maybe this means you’ve settled a little.”

I want to punch the drywall.

“My bisexuality didn’t disappear because I got married.”

Dad makes a low sound. “No one is talking about that.”